I Think You Need a Doctor
by Scrawlers
Summary: Three months after the space center trial, Apollo decides to introduce Athena to his favorite show. It's as much for her benefit as it is for his own, though not in the way either of them thought at first. [Apollo/Athena]


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Ace Attorney or any of its properties.

**Notes: **This was written forever ago and posted to Tumblr. In an attempt to update this account with some things, I decided to post it here.

This was written as a love letter of sorts to both my favorite Ace Attorney pairing, as well as one of my dearest loves (Doctor Who). Normally I'd try to fandomize a real world concept—change it ever so slightly, like making it FaceSpace instead of Facebook, or Shakr instead of Tumblr, that sort of thing—but in this case I'm not going to. A love letter is a love letter, after all, and since it's canon that Apollo is a fan … also, friendly reminder to any fellow Whovians reading this that this is set in **2027**, which means old Who to these kids is not what we recognize as old Who. Sadly, our New Who would be classics to them. Know, however, that you **do not **need to be familiar with Doctor Who to understand this fic.

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><p><strong>I Think You Need a Doctor<strong>

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><p>Apollo's apartment looked like a picture out of a magazine: polished tabletops, an old sofa without a single wrinkled cushion, and a plush white carpet that looked as though it had never seen a stain.<p>

Athena felt almost uncomfortable as she entered the living room, her shoes left back by the door next to his. Apollo seemed at ease, the way he immediately went over to crouch down by the TV stand, his fingers darting along the DVD cases lined up in a neat row. Then again, that was to be expected; it was _his _apartment, so it was only natural that he knew how to move without disturbing anything—how to make it look like he wasn't there at all. Athena, on the other hand, was a disorganized klutz and had an apartment of her own to prove it, and so she kept her arms wrapped loosely around her stomach, just in case.

"Okay, I think we should start with the first reboot series—with the Ninth Doctor," Apollo said, and he stood up with a DVD case in hand. "It's really old, but if we're going to start anywhere, I think that's the easiest place, especially since a lot of episodes from the Doctors before him are still missing." He paused, and frowned. "Well, I guess we _could _start with the Eleventh Doctor, but it wouldn't feel right . . ."

"I'm game for whatever you want to do," Athena said. "You know way more about it than I do." Apollo continued to stare at the DVD case in his hand for a minute, looking contemplative, before he glanced back up and gave a bemused smile.

"Well, you could start by sitting on the couch or something, if you wanted. What are you still standing over there for?"

"Are you sure it's okay to sit on the couch? I mean, it doesn't look like anyone's ever sat on it before." Athena walked over and ran her hand along the back of the sofa—the fabric felt soft and warm under her touch, but not very worn—and Apollo rolled his eyes.

"Yes, it's okay to sit on the couch. That's generally what couches are for." He looked back at the DVD case, deliberating, before he finally nodded. "Yeah, let's start with this. We can go from the Ninth Doctor on. Then, if you're interested, we can go back and watch Original Who—or what I have of it, anyway."

"You may as well be speaking Martian to me, because I have no idea what any of that means," Athena said, and though she looped around the couch, she didn't sit down on it. Instead, she squatted down to look at Apollo's DVDs as he started fiddling with his ancient DVD player.

"You will," he said, and he jammed his finger against the DVD player's eject button a few times until it finally offered the DVD tray. Athena ran her finger along the spines of the perfectly organized DVD cases before she selected one at random to look at. She examined the DVD case for a minute before she grinned and showed it to Apollo.

"Which one is this?" she asked, and she jabbed her finger a the picture of a man with spiky brown hair and a long brown trenchcoat. Apollo paused at setting the DVD player up, his eyes glued to the DVD case in her hand. "Is he one of the Doctors?"

"Yeah," Apollo answered, and Athena's fingers tightened around the DVD case. There was an odd note to his voice—a throaty, gruff sort of catch. "That's—that's the Tenth Doctor, David Tennant. He takes over after the Ninth Doctor regenerates."

"Oh." Athena looked back at the DVD case as Apollo turned back to the DVD player. "So we'll see him soon, then?"

"Yeah. Christopher Eccleston—that's the Ninth Doctor—stays around for . . . well, I don't want to spoil it for you, but he's not the Doctor for very long."

"Do you . . ." Athena hesitated as she slid the DVD case back where it belonged, but plucked up her courage to plow on despite the odd note of pain in Apollo's voice. "Do you not like the Tenth Doctor?"

"No, he's great. He's fine. He . . ." Apollo looked down, his eyes closed, and the tenor of his voice told Athena what she needed to know before he spoke. "He was Clay's favorite Doctor. He—Clay even modeled his hairstyle after Ten's, the doofus." Apollo snorted a laugh. "It didn't help. He was still terrible looking. Not that he listened to anything I had to say on the matter."

Athena stood up and stepped away from the DVDs, brushing her hands on her pants as though she'd gotten something on them. It didn't matter what he said, or how many teasing jibes he lobbed at Clay despite Clay not being there to hear them. Athena could, and more importantly, she could hear the raw ache in the voice that said them. "Apollo, you know, if it's going to be too much, we don't have to—"

"No." Apollo inserted the Ninth Doctor's DVD and stood up as well, locking his eyes with hers. "I want to watch this with you. When we get to the Tenth Doctor, we'll watch that, too. I . . ." He took a deep breath, and his voice became stronger—still pained, but more confident. "I want to be able to watch this again, and I think that maybe just _watching _it is the way to go. It's the way to move on, you know?"

Athena smiled softly, and nodded. "Yeah." A heartbeat of silence passed, tension and raw feelings still hanging in the air, before Athena forced a little more cheer into her smile. Getting gloomy wouldn't help either one of them. "So! Are we going to get this show on the road, or not?"

Apollo grinned back at her. "Absolutely. Athena, it's time to make you a Whovian!"

Athena punched her fist into her opposite palm. "Let's do it!"

The cheer was infectious. Smiling felt more natural now, and as Apollo walked around the coffee table to drop onto the couch, Athena followed suit, comfortable enough now to jump onto the couch with a little bounce. Apollo grabbed the remote from the coffee table so he could navigate the DVD menu, and explained the premise of the show as he did so.

"Most stuff will be explained—_Doctor Who _was off the air for something like forty years before _this _reboot, so they had to explain everything again to new viewers. So you'll get most stuff as the Doctor tells it to Rose. All you really need to know is that, to explain the actor change from the First Doctor to the Second, whenever the Doctor dies, he regenerates. So he doesn't really die, see? It's a Time Lord thing, you'll see, but that's why there are so many Doctors. He's the same guy, just in a different body."

Even in court, when Apollo put his Chords of Steel to full use, Athena had never heard him be so animated. The thrill in his voice was almost palpable, and while she wasn't as visually perceptive as he was, she could see that his eyes were bright and his face was practically glowing with excitement. Snuggling back into the couch cushions, Athena curled her legs under her and beamed at him.

"Yeah, yeah, that's enough talk. Let's just get started! How many episodes are there in the first season?"

"Thirteen," Apollo said, as a clear view of space on the television screen shifted to an alarm clock, and then to a blonde girl waking up as a fast-paced, electronic music track in the background set off a filmed montage of her day. "Here we go."

Each episode was about forty minutes long, but Athena was hooked from the first, and it felt like they blazed through them. Every now and then, Apollo would offer small bits of commentary—a note that Rose's mother and boyfriend would be important in a way not typically seen in most fantasy or sci-fi shows, or particularly important facial expressions or bits of dialogue Athena should pay attention to. Every now and then he brought up more personal memories, though, and by the time they were on the eighth episode and the Doctor was talking to a soon-to-be married couple, he said, "You know, this is what first inspired me to be a lawyer."

"Huh?" Athena turned to look at him, and—after a glance at her to see that she was interested in hearing the full story—Apollo paused the DVD. (He had a habit of doing this, and when she had pointed out that she could multitask during the fifth episode, he said that he wanted to make sure she didn't miss anything important while he was blathering on.)

"By the time I started watching _Doctor Who_, the new episodes were featuring the Twelfth Doctor, Peter Capaldi," he said. "But Clay—he's the one that introduced me to it—he thought I should start with the first episodes from the reboot. Since he had them on DVDs, we used to go over to his house after school to watch them, while his dad was at work." Apollo smiled softly, his tone rueful as he spoke, and looked down at the sofa, drawing his finger along the patterned design of the cushion he was sitting on. "So even though the new episodes were featuring Twelve, I started with Nine.

"Anyway, when we got to this episode," he nodded at the TV, "and the one before it, really . . . well, you saw in the last episode, how the Doctor stood up to the Editor-in-Chief? How he pointed out that even if people don't know they're enslaved, they still are?" Athena nodded. "Well, that, and what he tells these people here—how he tells them that they're important, that their story about how they met on a street corner at two in the morning is fantastic, and that he'll help them no matter what . . ." His tone became less rueful, more hopeful—inspired, even. "It didn't matter to the Doctor that these were two ordinary people, without much money or prestige to their name. It didn't matter to him that Rose's dad was an ordinary guy, either—in fact, to him, an ordinary man was the most important thing in the universe. The Doctor fought for ordinary people—he made it his mission to save them, to protect them from whatever came their way. And I wanted to do that, too."

"So you became a lawyer," Athena said. Apollo nodded.

"Yeah. Me and Clay both decided we wanted to do that, though since Clay wanted to actually _be _the Doctor, he took it a step too far and became an astronaut." Apollo rolled his eyes, but Athena couldn't hear any real disdain or malice in his voice: only warmth, with twinges of sorrow. "I think he thought that if he explored space long enough, he'd actually find the Doctor up there."

"Hey, you never know—it could happen. Maybe the Doctor's the one spearheading this show about himself," Athena said. Apollo shook his head.

"I have evidence against the theory that he'd want a show about himself, but that'll come in later episodes. I won't spoil it right now."

"Fine, fine. Be a killjoy, ruin my fun. See if I care," Athena said, but she grinned to show that she didn't really mean it. "But anyway, you and Clay were both inspired by the Doctor, so he became an astronaut and you became a lawyer. But that doesn't explain . . ."

"Hm?"

"Well—why a lawyer, specifically?" Athena braced her elbow against the couch and put her cheek in her hand, looking at him. "I mean, he defended and protected people that needed it, I get that—I've seen that. But he doesn't exactly do it in a court of law. No Chords of Steel or evidence or anything like that, either."

"Well . . ." Apollo's voice took on a shade of sheepishness and embarrassment, highlighted by a little laugh that he tried to hide by looking away. Unfortunately for him, no amount of evasion could fool Athena's ears.

"Come on, Apollo. Spill."

"It's not really a big deal," Apollo said, but his voice carried even more sheepishness now, and she sat up straighter on the couch, the fingers of her right hand curled into a fist.

"Tell me or I'll noogie it out of you," she warned. He looked back over at her, and when he spoke his voice was thick with disbelief.

"You will not."

"I will so. I'd tickle it out of you, but I don't know if you're ticklish or not." She paused. "Though we could always find out."

"I'm not ticklish," he said flatly, though there was a note of discord in his voice that told her he was probably lying. She dismissed it.

"Doesn't matter. Noogies get the job done quicker. Tell me why you chose to be a lawyer specifically or I'll noogie it out of you, Apollo! I swear I will!" Apollo sat up straighter as well, and turned halfway to face her, as if to fend her off.

"There's no way you'll—"

_"Noogie time in three, two—!" _Widget chirped, and Apollo held up both hands.

"All right, all right, I surrender! Put down the noogie-fist!" Athena grinned and thumped her hand flat against the couch cushion, and Apollo gave her a disgruntled look. "Why does this mean so much to you all of a sudden?"

"You can't sound that embarrassed and not expect to share the story," she said, and resumed her position of leaning against the back of the sofa, cheek in hand. "So, what's the deal? Why lawyer in specific?"

"Well . . ." Apollo, too, leaned back against the couch, his eyes on the TV. "It was because of Mr. Wright, actually," he said. "I read about his trials in the paper, and heard about them on the news. . . . He always defended the most helpless clients, the ones no one else would defend. He defended them, and he _won_." Apollo's voice took on a shade of awe. "I wanted to be able to do that, too."

"Okay . . ." Athena said slowly. "But what does that have to do with the Doctor? How did the _Doctor _inspire you to pick law?" Apollo twisted his lips into a frown, and Athena raised her eyebrows. "A noogie is still on the table, you know."

"It's—it's just stupid, okay?" Embarrassment was thick in Apollo's voice now, and his ears were starting to turn a little red. "I was just a kid. I was twelve, and it was just a stupid idea that I think I knew was stupid even back then—"

"Just spit it out!"

"I saw Mr. Wright on the TV news reports, and I even sneaked into a few of his trials, and I saw him defending people like the Doctor did, and I thought—I just thought—" Apollo raked a hand back over his hair, flattening the two strands that always stuck up in front against his scalp, and said in a rush, "I just thought that if the Doctor was real like Clay thought, then maybe—maybe—maybe he could have regenerated, and was passing himself off as a human for awhile, and that while he did so he decided to practice law so that he could save people that way instead of using his TARDIS."

"Wait," Athena said slowly. "Wait. You're saying . . . you thought _Mr. Wright _was the_ Doctor_?" Apollo's ears and the back of his neck were red enough to match the suit he usually wore, and that alone would have told Athena she was right even if his voice didn't give him away.

"He did have a companion with him," he muttered, and try as she might, Athena couldn't hold back the laughter that was bubbling inside of her. "A girl around Rose's age, from what I remember, and she wore weird clothes so I figured she was from a different time period—oh, come off it, it's not that funny!"

"You thought—Mr. Wright—was a _Time Lord_!" Athena gasped out between howls of laughter. Apollo threw up his hands.

"I was _twelve_!" Athena couldn't make her laughter subside for long before it started up again, and Apollo groaned before he put his head in his hands. "Ugh. Don't you dare mention this to either Mr. Wright or Trucy. They'll never let me live it down."

"Aw, c'mon. Mr. Wright might be flattered to know you once thought he came from Mars."

"Time Lords aren't from Mars, they're from Gallifrey," Apollo said irritably, but seeing as how that only made Athena's giggles bubble up a little more, he sighed. "Just don't mention it to them, okay? I'm counting on you for this." Athena finally managed to choke back her laughter just enough to draw an X over her heart.

"Cross my heart, hope to fly, you can object if I lie. Your secret's safe with me."

Apollo stared at her for a minute, as if trying to determine if she was serious or not, before he finally sighed and picked up the remote to the DVD player again. "Good. Can we get back to the show, then, please?"

Athena nodded, and it was good that the rest of the episode was so heartwrenching, because she didn't see how she would have been able to keep her laughter in otherwise.

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><p>It was nearing one in the morning by the time they finally reached the end of "The Parting of the Ways," and the Ninth Doctor regenerated into the Tenth. As the credits started to roll, Apollo picked up the remote and turned off the DVD player, and Athena turned immediately to face him. She looked as though she was torn between crying over the Ninth Doctor and excitement for the Tenth, and that alone made Apollo smile; he could remember feeling like that, too.<p>

"Want me to grab the next DVD?" she asked, standing up. She'd shifted down to sitting on the floor for the last couple of episodes, leaning on the coffee table as if she could be absorbed directly into the action if she sat close enough. Apollo frowned.

"Athena, it's almost one in the morning. We need to go to bed."

"Bed? Who needs bed?" she asked, indignation written plain across her face. He raised his eyebrows.

"I do. Maybe you're a zombie that doesn't need sleep, but the rest of us humans enjoy it." Athena frowned, and twisted her long hair around one hand.

"I need sleep," she muttered. "Sometimes it just doesn't come as easily as I'd like it to." The dark circles that had been growing under her eyes ever since the space center trial stood out even more starkly to him now than they did normally, and he opened his mouth to comment on them when she raised her voice and spoke again. "Anyway, who could sleep after that? The Ninth Doctor just regenerated! Rose has no idea what's going on! They left Jack behind! And they _just kissed_!" She pointed a finger at him, poised as she would be behind the defense's bench in court. "Your Honor, I demand that we continue this trial!"

"Overruled," he said flatly. Athena scowled at him as she lowered her arm. "Athena, we have work in the morning. In about seven hours, in fact."

"So what? We don't have a case right now. We'll just call in sick."

"Both of us? You don't think Mr. Wright would find that just a little suspicious?"

"Why would he? We'll just say we have the . . ." She toyed with the crescent moon earring dangling from her ear for a moment, considering, before she put her hands on her hips and grinned at him. "The Doctor flu!"

Apollo stared at her for a second, unable to believe what he just heard, before he muttered, "Now I know how everyone else feels whenever they hear one of my puns. That was awful."

"The best ones always are." Apollo shook his head and chose not to dignify that with a response. "So, what do you say? Up for another few episodes?"

"No. I really need to sleep." Athena pouted at him, and Apollo sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "We can watch more tomorrow, all right? I'm actually really excited about this rewatch. I haven't seen these episodes in a long time." That seemed to brighten Athena's mood a little, but he could still see it: the sadness mixed with disappointment in her expression, almost twinging on fear. "Do you, uh . . ."

"What?"

"Do you . . . want to crash here tonight?" Athena's eyes widened, and Apollo hastily added, "You know, since it's so late, and we're both heading to the same place tomorrow anyway. We could always leave a little earlier so you could swing by to get a change of clothes from your apartment."

Athena ran one hand along the opposite arm, a nervous habit he'd picked up on after a month or two of knowing her. "Nah, that's okay," she said, and a second later flashed him a grin that wasn't matched by Widget's display. "It's late, but the buses are still running and it's not like I live very far away anyway. I'll be fine!"

"Are you sure?" he asked, and she nodded before she looped around the couch, heading for the door.

"Yep! I'll see you at work tomorrow, okay? Bright and early, first thing!"

"Yeah, okay," he said, and as she slipped on her shoes and gave him a wave, he returned it halfheartedly. "See you tomorrow."

The door clicked shut behind her, and when it did, a sudden feeling of cold emptiness washed over his apartment. But as he walked over to lock the deadbolt and slide the security chain into place, he couldn't help but feel that—given what she had remembered during the space center trial about her mother's murder—his apartment couldn't be half as bad as the apartment full of nightmares he was almost positive Athena was going home to.

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><p>"I can't believe you would do this to me, Apollo. I thought we were friends."<p>

The day had passed by in a series of events that could be seen as either unfortunate or fortunate, depending on who you were and how you decided to view the situation. When Apollo had arrived at the office, Athena was already there, slumped over on her desk while her coffee grew cold beside her. He had let her sleep (though he paid close attention to how she mumbled things and cried a little as she dreamed), only to have her awoken by Trucy bursting into the office, shouting about the science project she had left there, Mr. Wright following in his haste to help her find it before she missed first period altogether. All of that would have been fine, but around noon Mr. Wright received a call from Trucy's school saying she needed to be picked up due to a flock of doves she'd released in the lunchroom, and—seeing as how they had no new clients and the office seemed to be more or less dead—Mr. Wright had let Apollo and Athena leave early for the day.

That, of course, meant that they had returned to Apollo's place to continue watching _Doctor Who_, and—due to Athena's insistence on a marathon and the convenience of Chinese food delivery—they had watched the entirety of season two, once again ending late into the night. Athena was curled up on the floor again, slumped over the coffee table, and if he wasn't mistaken, Athena's shaking shoulders told Apollo that was she was crying.

"It had to happen," he said, in what he hoped was a consoling tone. "You'll see. But don't worry—you're not the only one who has cried over this. "Doomsday" gets everyone the first time, at least." It had gotten Apollo himself the first few times and Clay _every _time, but he didn't feel the need to share that information.

"I-I'm not crying! It was just upsetting!" Athena protested, but she had to swipe at her eyes as she lifted her head off the table. Around her neck, Widget glowed purple and cried: _"They were in love!"_

"Yeah," Apollo said, and he looked at the screen, where they had paused it on the Doctor scrubbing his hands over his face to wipe away his own tears. Apollo had thought it best to let Athena collect herself before she was introduced to Donna. "They were."

"And he never got to say it." Athena turned to face him, her eyes a bit red, a couple of tear tracks still on her cheeks. "He never got to say it back. Not in words, and I don't think Rose could . . ."

"Athena?"

Athena's lower lip trembled, but she managed to keep the tears in. "It was in their _voices,_ Apollo! Even before Rose said it, I could hear—and the Doctor . . . !" Athena squeezed her eyes shut, and he could tell—more tears were coming. "He didn't say the words, but I could still hear it—but she couldn't! Rose wouldn't be able to! And now she's stuck in that parallel universe and she'll never see him again! How is any of this fair? How could you do this to me?!"

"Hey, don't blame me! Blame Russell T. Davies! He's the one that wrote it!" Apollo protested, and as Athena wiped away more tears, he slid off the couch to sit beside her on the floor. "Look, I know it's painful now, but the Doctor has a lot of companions over time. You'll get used to them leaving. And besides, you know how Rose is. She'll be okay in the other universe."

"It's not about being _okay_, it's about being _happy_," Athena muttered, and Apollo sighed.

"Do you . . . just want to put off the rest until later? I figured we could watch the rest of this episode and the Christmas special that followed, but if you want, we can wait. Clay—Clay needed a grieving period after Rose left, too."

"No." Athena gave a hearty sniff, but although her eyes were red-rimmed when she looked at him, they were also resolute. "It won't hurt any less later. You've got to face the bad things head-on if you ever want to get through them."

Part of Apollo wanted to point out that the rest of _Doctor Who _wasn't bad at all—that Donna was one of his favorite companions, and that Martha was brilliant as well. But it wouldn't accomplish anything to argue with Athena's point, and though her lower lip was still trembling a little, it was evident she was doing her best to keep her tears in check. He wouldn't take that from her. "All right," he said, and Athena forced a shaking smile as he borrowed her catchphrase. "Let's do it."

Fortunately, if there was any companion that could make a viewer laugh in the wake of "Doomsday"'s emotional devastation, it was Donna Noble, and as Athena's sniffles stopped in the face of pure, confused shock at Donna's sudden appearance on-screen, Apollo knew that Donna had pulled through on that front yet again.

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><p>Their workload picked up again the following day, so that even though they'd made it through season three's Christmas special, they weren't able to start season three itself until a few days later. Even then, with cases to work on and trials to attend, having season-long marathons of <em>Doctor Who <em>became something of an impossibility. As a result, seasons three, four (and its specials), and season five were spread out over a six month time period (with one month being dedicated solely to Athena grieving the Tenth Doctor after "The End of Time Part Two," the last of season four's specials). The benefit of spreading their viewing sessions out meant that it was unlikely for them to end a season at one or two in the morning, and as a result, the last episode of season five wrapped up at around seven in the evening, leaving a few hours open for them to get a head start on season six. Yet as Apollo got up to swap the DVDs out, Athena couldn't bring herself to feel excited. Instead, a hollow, cold sort of feeling took root in her gut, and it wasn't until several seconds had passed that Athena realized Apollo was calling out to her.

"Athena! Hey, are you okay?"

"What?" She looked up and met his eyes. She was seated on the floor again, positioned between the coffee table and the couch, and he was standing over by the television, the screen now blue since he'd turned the DVD player off. She'd heard just enough of what he said to catch the note of worry in his voice, and as he continued to frown at her, she forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be? We're on season six, right?"

"Yeah, but . . ." The uncertainty in Apollo's voice was strong, and there was a catch there that told Athena he was hesitating to say something. Before she could decide on how to act on that, he seemed to come to a decision, and nodded toward her. "You're—You're doing it again. That tell. Something's bothering you, isn't it."

"Huh? What are you—"

"Whenever something really upsets you, you run your hand up and down your arm." It was only now that he said it that Athena realized that the fingers of her right hand were wrapped around her left bicep, and she slowly pried them loose. "When you're thinking you toy with your earring, and when you're embarrassed you'll play with your hair. But when something _really _upsets you, you'll grip your arm like that."

"Is that what you noticed when we were investigating Clay's murder?" she asked quietly, and his voice was just as quiet—choked, even, with pain and a few threads of guilt—when he replied.

"Yes."

Both of them were quiet for a time. Athena wrapped both arms around her stomach, trying to squash and strangle the cold, empty feeling inside—but it wouldn't work. With her eyes on her knees, she heard rather than saw Apollo walk back around to sit on the couch again, and could hear the tell in his silence that he was waiting for her to elaborate. She didn't want to—she wanted to curl into a ball and never speak again—but she finally forced the words out, knowing that if she didn't spit them out now, they'd eat her up from the inside forever.

"It's . . . my mom," she said finally, and her voice cracked on the last word. There was confusion in Apollo's voice when he answered, but a few notes of understanding and sympathy mixed in there as well.

"Your mom?"

"Yeah. I know, it's stupid. It's been six months since the trial, and _years _since she—since she died, but I . . ." Athena closed her eyes, and put her head down to rest her forehead against the edge of the coffee table.

"You know how Amy remembered her parents, and that's what saved them from the cracks in time? She spent basically her whole life without them, living with her aunt, because of that crack in her wall, but she was still able to remember them . . ."

"Yeah?"

"I . . . I can't remember my mom." Athena smiled a bit ruefully, the ugly feeling twisting in her gut. "Not alive, anyway. I can remember how she died. Ever since the trial, I've dreamed about it every night." A shiver crawled across her skin, and she bit back the part where sometimes the nightmare went further, invented things she knew didn't happen, things that involved the robot deconstruction table and her mother's still cooling body. "So if real life worked like how it works in _Doctor Who_—how it worked for Amy—then that's all I'd be able to bring back, right? My mother's dead body."

Athena heard Apollo's pants brushing against the fabric of the couch as he slid off it, and then the soft _thud _as he dropped down to sit beside her. For a moment, he didn't say anything; he merely sat in silence, letting her words sink in. Finally, he said, "You . . . really don't remember anything else?"

"No. Nothing useful." Athena sat back, and raised her knees in front of her chest. The fit was a bit tight this way—Apollo kept his coffee table too close to his sofa—but the slight discomfort of the edge of the coffee table cutting into her legs was almost nothing in comparison. "I thought I did. I always thought . . . I could remember those headphones, you know? And how much they hurt. Only they didn't really hurt, my hearing did. It's like Simon said in the trial. I wasn't remembering things at all—I was remembering them wrong. My mother loved me, but I didn't remember that. I didn't—I _don't _remember her."

"It isn't your fault," Apollo said after a moment. "You were really young, and with everything that happened—"

"Like that matters. Don't you see?" Athena couldn't bring herself to look at him—couldn't bring herself to face the sympathy she could hear in his voice—but as she stared at the blue screen on the television, she could feel tears burning in her eyes, blurring her vision. She didn't allow them to fall. "Mom gave everything for me, we learned that during the trial. She dedicated her whole life to helping me, all of her research, everything. I think . . . I think the reason she didn't take her relationship with Aura further was probably because she didn't want to take time away from finding a solution to my problem. But I didn't—I couldn't—I haven't done anything for _her_, in return. I couldn't stop her from dying, I couldn't stop the Phantom or save her life, and even now, I can't—I don't—re-remem—!"

The tears broke free before she could stop them. Six months of constant nightmares and growing guilt spilled over, and though she put her forehead against her knees to try and hide her tears, there was no hiding the sobs that shook her shoulders and made her gasp and cough. When the tears first spilled over Apollo had put a hand on her back, patting it a couple times before he switched to rubbing comforting circles into it. But as the seconds passed and Athena found herself unable to rein the sobs in, Apollo shifted so that his arm was gently around her shoulders, the comforting circles rubbed into her arm instead.

Apollo remained quiet until her sobs finally started to subside—until she was able to choke them back into hiccups and hitched breaths, raising her head just enough to bring her arm across her eyes. Then he said, in the tone of one who was choosing his words carefully, "I don't think you have all the facts quite right in this case."

"W-What?" Athena's voice was thick and congested from her crying, her uneven breathing breaking it, but if anything, Apollo's voice grew a bit stronger.

"You said you didn't do anything for your mother—that you haven't done anything for her, even now. That isn't true."

Athena scoffed.

"Name one thing I've done for her," she said, and she couldn't help the bitterness in her voice—the resentment she was sure was showing on Widget's display. "Like I said, I can't even remember her, not really. All these years, and I've done nothing but spit on her memory, and even now—"

"Even now, you're alive," Apollo cut in, and Athena brought herself up short, confused in the face of his conviction. "And look at everything you've done. You worked really hard for so many years to get your attorney's badge, didn't you? All so you could save Prosecutor Blackquill, since he was wrongfully convicted of your mother's murder. He was her student, wasn't he? I'm sure she wouldn't have wanted to see him sentenced to death for murdering her, not when he didn't actually do it."

"Well, yeah, but—"

"And you found out who _did _do it, too," Apollo went on. "You unmasked the truth about the Phantom—well, as much as it _could _be unmasked, anyway."

"That wasn't just me," Athena protested. "It was mostly Mr. Wright—and you. You helped."

"Yeah, I helped a whole lot by naming you as the culprit," Apollo said dryly, but despite his sarcasm, she picked up on the note of regret in his voice—the little inflection that still hadn't been erased completely. "But that isn't the point.

"The point is, whatever Mr. Wright or I did, you were instrumental in that, Athena. It was your testimony that brought everything to light. You working so hard for your attorney's badge, you giving testimony about the Phantom—all of that worked toward saving Prosecutor Blackquill, and you did. You did it. Maybe you had help, but hey, we all get help with our cases. That's what co-counsels are for, right?" His arm was still around her shoulders, but he still nudged her gently by leaning over a bit, and though she couldn't really bring herself to laugh or smile, Athena nodded.

"Yeah, I—I guess."

"And it wasn't just Prosecutor Blackquill, either." Apollo's voice held a bit of resignation—disappointment, as though he'd been hoping that admitting she'd cleared Simon would have cheered her up the rest of the way. "It was Aura, too."

"Aura's in jail," Athena pointed out.

"Yes, because she took Trucy and a lot of other people hostage. But she's also free now, in a lot of ways. I admit I haven't exactly gone to visit her, but . . . before we found out who Clay's killer really was, I was beside myself. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know if I'd ever get closure . . . and it drove me crazy, just for those few days. Aura went for _years _without knowing who really killed your mom, with her own brother accused. Now her brother's free, and she knows who really killed Metis. You were responsible for that, Athena. And I think that . . . I think your mom really cared about Aura, too. So even though you didn't help Aura for your mother directly, in the end, it still amounts to the same."

"Maybe, but—"

"And you're still alive." It was his original point, and Athena finally looked up at him, only to find that he was staring at the coffee table. "You didn't give up. You worked so hard to get your attorney's badge, and on top of that, you . . . you lived your life. Even now. You never let anything keep you down. Even when this whole thing has been eating you up for the past six months, you haven't let it stop you from living your life." Apollo finally turned to look at her, his eyes meeting hers, and the sincerity was so thick in his voice that she didn't need to see it on his face. "And maybe I can't really speak for your mom, even if I think she'd be happy to see that you're doing so well, but I . . . _I _think you're amazing."

For a moment, they were silent. Athena looked down, staring at the little sliver of carpet she could see between them, her breathing easier now than it was before. The cold, hollow feeling had lessened, too, replaced by a little bundle of warmth she was sure came from his words. Despite the wretched crying that had engulfed her before, Athena felt a small, genuine smile grace her lips. She leaned over and put her head against his chest.

"Thanks," she said softly, and though he didn't reply, his arm around her tightened a little so that he was holding her a little more snugly. "You're right. From everything Simon's told me, Mom probably would be . . ." She sniffed, and then added, "I was just being stupid."

"No, you weren't. I understand where you're coming from, kind of." There was a note of apology in his voice, along with some hesitation, like he had a story to share but wasn't sure he should, and so Athena poked him gently in the side.

"How so?"

"Well . . . my mom didn't die, or . . . I don't know if she did . . ." Apollo shifted a little so that he was leaning more against the back of the couch, and Athena stretched her legs out under the coffee table. "You know I'm an orphan, right?"

Athena sat up a little to look at him properly, but once again, he was staring straight ahead. He didn't remove his arm from her shoulders, even after she'd moved. "No, I didn't know that at all," she said. "You never said, and neither did Mr. Wright or Trucy . . ."

"Yeah, well, it's not something I talk about very often." There was a bit of rueful humor in Apollo's voice. "Anyway, I was left at an orphanage when I was a baby. Apparently my mom stayed long enough to make sure they knew my name, and that was it. I don't know if she was sick, or if she's still alive, or who my dad was—just that I have his last name. So . . . well, the point is, I can understand where you're coming from. I can't remember my parents either, and there have been times when I felt pretty angry about being—well, about being left behind. I don't know _why _my mother did that, and she probably had good reason, but . . . I still felt upset about it, sometimes, and because I was so young when she left, it's not like I can remember my mother, either. So while my situation's not nearly as extreme as yours, I think I know where you're coming from, and I don't think you were being stupid at all. That's all."

Silence followed his words. Athena thought that she should say something, that she should perhaps comment on their solidarity, about how they were in similar situations if not exactly the same, about how even if they didn't have their parents anymore, they still had each other and Mr. Wright, too. But for all the things she thought she should have said, she didn't say any of them. Instead, she leaned her head against his chest again, snaking one arm around to gently hug his waist from behind, and after listening to his heartbeat for a few seconds said quietly, "Apollo?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think I . . . would it be all right if I took you up on that offer from forever ago, and crashed here tonight?"

If Apollo thought it was strange of her to ask because it wasn't in the dead of night like it had been before, he didn't say so, nor did it show through in his tone. "Of course. Do you want the bed or the couch?"

"Are you crazy? Definitely the bed. I'll make us breakfast in the morning to make it up to you." Maybe bacon and eggs weren't exactly equivalent exchange for spending the night on the couch in his own apartment, but all the same Apollo laughed quietly, the sound a low rumble in his chest, vibrating against Athena's cheek.

"All right. I'll hold you to it."

* * *

><p>Season six took them two months to run through due to their increased workload, but by the time they'd reached it, Athena had already passed the Whovian point of no return. At the end of the first month, when they'd only made it halfway through season six, Athena informed Apollo that she couldn't bear to put their viewing sessions on hold yet again. "Look, I admit it, the Eleventh Doctor's stuff isn't as good as everything that came before it," she said. "There's something off about the writing, you were right about that. But that doesn't matter! I need to know everything the Doctor did, Apollo! I can't rest until I do!"<p>

Part of Apollo wanted to agree with her, of course. There was nothing he'd rather do with his time than relax and watch _Doctor Who _with her, especially since her reactions were part of what made it all so entertaining. Unfortunately, they'd both fallen behind on their filing and casebooks, and their newest trial made the one with Tenma Taro look tame by comparison. As a result, no matter how wide and big and blue her puppy eyes were, his answer remained the same. "We need to concentrate on our work, Athena, and we can't do that if we're staying up until two a.m. watching _Doctor Who_," he said. "We'll watch more once the trial is over and we're caught up on our work."

Athena, of course, didn't seem content with that answer. Instead, she turned from him without another word and dropped into her desk chair, pouting so plainly that he was almost surprised he didn't see a gloomy rain cloud over her head. All the same, despite her pouting, Apollo couldn't help but think she had improved over the past month. The circles beneath her eyes were less visible, her smiles seemed more bright and genuine . . . whether it was their talk that had helped or something else he didn't know, but either way, he wasn't going to question it. The more Athena smiled, _really _smiled and shined, the better.

All the same, he expected her to take the _Doctor Who _ban seriously. At the very least, he really did think she would wait for him, especially since all of the DVDs were locked safely in his apartment. Apparently, whatever he thought didn't matter, for when she barged into the office the day before the trial, she was practically singing.

"I did it!" she said, and Apollo, Mr. Wright, and Trucy (who had the day off from school) looked up at her. "I found him! I've found the man I'm going to marry!"

While pure shock registered across Mr. Wright and Trucy's faces, Apollo felt an odd constricting feeling in his chest, like a snake had flared to life inside him only to wrap itself around his lungs and heart. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, and even to his ears his voice sounded a bit accusatory. "Are you serious? _Who_?"

"Paul McGann," Athena said, and she flopped back onto the office couch in an exaggerated swoon. The shock fell from Apollo's face, and the constricted feeling in his chest lessened considerably.

"Seriously?" he said, his voice so flat it was hardly a question.

Athena didn't answer, though she didn't really have the chance to. Trucy had bounded up from her chair and over to the couch, where she leaned over the back of it to gaze at Athena intently from above.

"Who's Paul McGann?" she asked, and though she sounded less demanding than Apollo, he could see from the way her shoulders were set that she wasn't planning on letting Athena go without an answer. "Is he your boyfriend? Why haven't we ever heard of or met him? It's not nice to keep secret boyfriends, Athena! Especially not when you're planning on marrying them!"

"Athena's business is her own, Trucy. We can't force her to tell us every little thing," Mr. Wright said, and he, too, got up from his desk to approach the couch. "Though I admit I'm a bit confused, as well as a little concerned. Did you really just meet this guy?"

"Officially last night, yeah," Athena said, and she sat up on the couch, one hand over her heart. "But don't worry, Mr. Wright, I heard it in his voice. He's definitely the man for me."

Trucy stood up from the back of the couch, a little smile on her face. "Wow, super hearing really comes in handy, huh?" she asked, but before anyone could answer her, she rounded on Mr. Wright with a frown, her fists on her hips. "But Daddy, do you know what this means? It means Athena's getting married before you! How could you let this happen?"

Mr. Wright rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. "Well, you know me, Trucy. It's not like getting married is very high on my priority list, considering." Trucy didn't seem satisfied with his answer, but he moved on, fixing Athena with a more serious look. "But look — Athena, I know your ability is something else, but marriage is a big deal. It isn't something you can just break off and walk away from. Even if this Paul McGann sounds honest now . . . I don't want you to be taken advantage of."

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Mr. Wright," Apollo said. He was the only one not to get up from his desk when Athena swooned onto the sofa, and as one, all eyes in the office turned on him. It only took a second for Trucy to take it a step further and bolt across the office to his desk, and she slammed her hands on it with such force that Apollo was not only reminded of Mr. Wright, but his pencil cup was knocked over.

"Why do you say that? Do you know something we don't? Have you met Paul, Apollo?!"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Apollo said, and he picked his pencil cup back up. "Paul McGann played the Eighth Doctor on _Doctor Who_, mostly through audio dramas. He barely had any actual screen time."

"Who needs screen time when you have a voice like Paul's?" Athena asked, as Trucy looked disappointed and the tension melted out of Mr. Wright's shoulders. "He could read me every law book in this office and I'd be more than okay with it. The timbre of his voice is _perfect_."

"So, wait," Mr. Wright said, as Trucy walked over to flop onto the couch beside Athena and turn on the TV, "Paul McGann is just an actor? He's not your actual fiancé?"

"He's my actual fiancé in my heart, Boss," Athena said. The look on Mr. Wright's face suggested that he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes with great difficulty. Before he could act on the impulse, he turned to walk back to his desk.

"Well, let's keep it that way. I'm pretty sure no one in this office could afford a wedding right now even if we pooled our salaries."

"And I'm pretty sure Paul McGann is almost seventy," Apollo said. "Are you really sure the "timbre of his voice" is going to be that perfect now? He's old enough to be a grandpa several times over." Athena stuck her tongue out at him before she stood up from the couch.

"Time is nothing to a Time Lord. You know how they are; they can be over nine hundred and still look like they're in their twenties. He can pick me up in the TARDIS at any time."

Apollo raised an eyebrow, though he was pretty sure his expression was flat. "Are you talking about Paul McGann or the Eighth Doctor?"

Athena considered his question for a moment before she gave him a grin and a shrug. "Either way's fine with me, though I guess the Eighth Doctor would be more convenient, timeline wise."

Unlike Mr. Wright, Apollo couldn't resist the urge: he rolled his eyes as he looked back down at his work, and Athena walked over to her desk. Try as he might, though, he couldn't concentrate; no matter how many times he read over the case files, trying to absorb the words into his brain so he could adequately prepare for the coming trial, the words blurred before his eyes and his thoughts returned to Athena and her declaration of love. Finally, after the third time reading over the autopsy report (which he had a sinking feeling was going to be rendered null and void by the prosecution the next morning), he said loudly, "You know, I thought we agreed to put _Doctor Who _on hold until at least after the trial."

"We did, and I stuck to that promise!" Apollo looked up to give Athena a disbelieving look, and his expression was apparently enough to cause her to stand up from her desk and take a few paces around it, her expression earnest. "I haven't _watched _anything, Apollo, and that's what we agreed on—to not _watch _anymore. But I was looking up _Who _stuff online the other night, and I found out that the Eight Doctor primarily did audio dramas, and after that it wasn't hard to find a good link to download them, and I just couldn't help myself. I had to see what a _Doctor Who _audio drama was like!" A little bit of the excitement faded from Athena's eyes, replaced with a determined, sincere look. "But I didn't watch anything, I swear. I didn't watch season six, and I didn't even watch the fiftieth anniversary special, even though the internet says Paul was in it."

They had work to do, and even if they didn't, Apollo still felt grumpy enough that a part of him wanted to refuse to talk with her about it. At the same time, he couldn't resist a conversation about _Doctor Who_. "The internet was wrong, Paul McGann wasn't in the fiftieth anniversary special."

Athena's face fell. "What? But the internet said—"

"Like I said, it was wrong—that, or you misread what was there. Paul McGann filmed a mini-episode that aired a little before the fiftieth, as a way to prep the fandom for what the fiftieth anniversary was going to be about, but he wasn't in the special itself. In fact, the mini-episode he filmed has him regenerate at the end of it, though not into the Ninth Doctor. He regenerated into the War Doctor instead." Apollo paused, and then added, "Don't worry, you'll understand when we get there."

"But . . . But . . ." A look of frustration was on Athena's face, and Apollo glanced at Widget in time to see that the little device was flickering between purple and red. "But the internet said the fiftieth was about the Time War. The Eighth Doctor fought in the Time War, didn't he? That's what made him regenerate into the Ninth!"

Apollo shook his head. "Nope. Like I said, you'll understand when you watch it, but the mini-sode has him regenerate into the War Doctor. It's a regeneration between the Eighth and the Ninth. Neither of them fought in the Time War."

"But that makes no sense!" Athena exploded, and this time Widget settled solidly on red. Trucy turned the volume up on the television. "We know the Ninth Doctor fought in the Time War! He said so in season one! And now you're telling me that neither Eight nor Nine are in the fiftieth anniversary special at all?"

"That's right," Apollo said, and despite his earlier grumpiness, he couldn't help but feel a little amused at Athena's indignation. "The only Doctors in the anniversary special are the Tenth, Eleventh, and War."

"Who even _is _the War Doctor? Is he anywhere else in the series?" Apollo shook his head, and Athena threw her hands into the air. "What's the point of a fiftieth anniversary special then?! How could you have an episode about the Time War and not include Paul or Christopher, but especially Paul? How could you have a fiftieth with two Doctors and a nobody? This is a crime! This is the worst kind of crime! I'm going to call Ema and get her to arrest Steven Moffat, and then call Simon to prosecute him!"

"I don't think you can have someone arrested and tried in a criminal court for writing an episode of television you don't like," Apollo said dryly. Athena glared heatedly at him.

"Then I'm at least going to write him a strongly worded letter. How dare he not include Paul?"

"Paul McGann at least got the mini-sode. That's more than Christopher Eccleston got," Apollo said. "Besides, that was fourteen years ago. Don't you think it's a little late to be writing angry letters now? Besides, he isn't even the show runner anymore."

"The statute of limitations for unsolved murders is fifteen years," Athena said. "If we go by that logic, it's not too late at all."

Apollo opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, Mr. Wright chose to do it for him. "As interesting as it is listening to you two debate _Doctor Who_, don't you think you should prepare for the trial tomorrow? I don't think a strongly worded letter to Steven Moffat will be very comforting to your client if you can't get them a Not Guilty."

There was too much truth in Mr. Wright's words for either Apollo or Athena to ignore, and both of them knew it. Athena blurted out a good enough apology for both of them before she darted back around behind her desk, staring a little too intently on the folders and documents there for it to really be believable. As he looked back down at his own copy of the court record, Apollo found that he still couldn't concentrate very well, but at the same time, he also felt a bit better about the situation.

After all, he would be the one standing behind the defense's bench with Athena tomorrow—not Paul McGann.

* * *

><p>It took them two months to finish season six, but another four before they were caught up completely. It was nearly two in the morning when they finished the Fifteenth Doctor's first season, and when Apollo turned off the television along with the DVD player, Athena didn't protest. In fact, she didn't say anything at first, and neither did he. Instead, they sat in comfortable silence on his sofa for a few minutes, leaning back against the cushions, and when Athena did finally break the silence, it was with a little smile on her lips.<p>

"I can't believe it's taken us a whole year to get this far."

"Hm?" Apollo had his eyes closed, but she could tell that his little grunt of response wasn't a brush-off. He was listening, however sleepy he was. She leaned her cheek against the back of the sofa, watching him.

"It's been a year since we started watching _Doctor Who_. I mean, not a year to the day, but just about." She grinned. "And we still have all of Original Who to watch, too." He turned his head in her direction, and opened his eyes in a weary, almost grumpy look.

"Don't remind me. I don't think we'll ever make it through it all." Despite his expression, his voice was warm, practically excited. Athena laughed.

"We'll make it," she said. "You and me, we'll make it through anything." She raised one fist in the air, and Apollo bumped his own fist against hers, gently.

"You got that right," he said, and the warmth in his voice matched his smile. Athena made herself a bit more comfortable on the couch, sitting up a bit straighter.

"Well, now that we've made it this far," she said, "I guess it's time to talk about it." She steeled her expression into the most serious face she could muster, and the wariness Apollo was feeling rang clear in his voice.

"Talk about what?"

"Our favorite Doctors and companions, of course!" Apollo let out a soft 'oh' of understanding, and she could practically hear the tension melting out in his sigh. "Obviously my Doctor is Eight. He's perfect in just about every way. But what about you? All this time, and you've never even said."

"Hmm . . ." Apollo crossed his arms and stared up at the ceiling. "You know, I'm not really sure. I like all of the Doctors, for different reasons. They're all special to me in one way or another. The Ninth is really special to me because he was my first, but I first got really attached to the Tenth since he was the one I spent the most time with as a kid . . ."

"But if you had to pick one," Athena pressed, "then who would it be?"

"I really don't know! Maybe Thirteen? I kind of liked how, in a lot of ways, he acted like an ordinary guy. He felt more human, like the Tenth Doctor, but even more casual in some ways. A lot of people hated that aspect of him, but I felt that it made him easier to relate to and look up to. Less of an unattainable idol." Apollo shrugged. "There's also the fact that he cared so much about doing the right thing, too, and always making sure everyone got a fair shake, that no one was left behind. That really spoke to me."

"Yeah, I can see that," Athena said, and Apollo grinned at her before he put his elbow on the back of the couch, his cheek in his hand.

"So, that's it for Doctors. Companions next, right? Who's your favorite?"

This time it was Athena's turn to turn her eyes to the ceiling, one finger toying with the half-moon that dangled from her ear. She took a few seconds to ponder before she said, "Donna . . . I think. They're all great, but I think I'm going to have to go with Donna."

"How come?"

"I relate best to her, I think." Athena looked back at Apollo to see that he was watching her, his eyes focused on her face. "You know, because we've both got big mouths and say whatever's on our mind? But we both also have that thing where we talk a lot and have to really fight to get our voices heard. Donna thought she wasn't special for a long time because of that. And it's not about being special, but I think I can feel where Donna's coming form on that one, you know?"

"Yeah," Apollo said, echoing her words from before, "I can see that." There was a little rivet in his voice—an undercurrent of something unspoken, and after a few seconds, he followed it up. "But you know, I think you're also a little like Rose."

Athena raised her eyebrows. "Like Rose?"

"Yeah." There was a note in Apollo's voice, like he wasn't sure whether to smile or feel trepidation about what he was going to say. He believed in his words, clearly, but he was just as clearly choosing them carefully. "You know how she spent the time between seasons two and four building the Dimension Cannon so that she could get back to the Doctor, and warn him about the oncoming Darkness?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's kind of like you, isn't it?" Apollo had previously looked down at the space on the sofa between them, but now he looked back up at her. "Rose spent years—about six or so, if you account for how much faster the alternate universe runs ahead of the normal universe—getting back to the Doctor. She spent _years _working to get back to and save someone she loved. That's kind of what you did for Prosecutor Blackquill, isn't it? Obviously you don't love him in the same way Rose loved the Doctor, but you still cared about him and worked for seven years straight to save him. You'd do anything to help someone you cared about, no matter how long it took, and that's something I think you have in common with Rose."

Athena considered his words for a moment, though it was a bit hard to concentrate on them when she could hear the meaning _behind _the words as clear as day. He was comparing her to Rose, and she could see and agree with his surface reasons; he was right when he said she'd do anything for someone she cared about, no matter how long it took, and he was also right when he pointed out that Rose had done the same. Just because they weren't privileged enough to see the actual _work _and only saw the _result _didn't change that.

But it was everything underneath his words, too—the inflections, the tone. She couldn't be positive—her ability rarely gave her _definites_, but usually landed her near enough to the target to give her an educated guess—but she had the distinct feeling that there was another reason he had chosen that particular companion to compare her to. After having known Apollo for close to two years—after spending almost every day in his company, whether it was through work or leisure time—Athena would say that she knew him fairly well. Her educated guesses about him were better than her educated guesses about others, and that tone in his voice now—she didn't think it was wishful thinking on her part, or a wild stab in the dark.

"You think I'm like Rose, huh?" she asked, and when he nodded, she said, "So if I'm Rose, then . . . would you be my Doctor?"

"H—Wh-What do you mean?"

Nervousness. Excitement. Disbelief. Three distinct emotions, taut and coiled around Apollo's every word. Athena smiled, and reached over to smooth the lapels on his button-down shirt (_casual enough for a night in, but dressier than a graphic tee, she noticed_), before she gripped both between her fingers.

She then used that grip on his lapels to pull him into a kiss.

She pulled him close just as she leaned in; they met halfway, and though his lips were slack at first against her own, shock causing his brain to stall, he kissed back as she removed one hand from the lapels of his shirt, moving it to the back of his head to brush against his hair. The kiss was short, sweet; she kept it chaste by pulling back before it could go farther. Though she pulled both hands away, she took one of his hands in her own, their fingers entwining as if on instinct.

"Does it need saying?" she asked, in answer to his own question. She wasn't a master at facial expressions like he was, but the way he beamed at her left no room for doubt.

"What about Paul McGann?" he asked. Athena grinned, and leaned her head forward. Their foreheads bumped together, their voices light with barely suppressed giggles.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she said, and their noses brushed briefly before their lips met for another kiss.


End file.
